


Stone Fist

by veevacious



Series: Felharnin Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comedy, Feelings, Feelings about magic, M/M, Magic, relationship is only briefly mentioned, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veevacious/pseuds/veevacious
Summary: The Inquisitor doesn't quite know how he feels about his magical specialization.





	Stone Fist

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a sorta silly, sort of introspective short piece that I wrote after an incident involving the Rift Mage specialization. Saying what it is would spoil the story so all I'll point you to is the title.

Studying rift magic had been an easy choice for Felharnin. When he’d been encouraged by his advisors to specialize in a form of magic it had seemed only right that he become more familiar the magic that now overtook his body and their world, no matter how new an area of study it was. His trainer was interesting. He’d had some misgivings in the beginning, but his advisors had chosen well in this as with most all things so far and the woman was competent and knowledgeable despite her distracted manner.

The initial training had been grueling. Largely because it was a new area of study, he supposed, it had basically all been theory and little practical work, especially at first. This had been completely new to him as the Dalish mostly taught by example. There hadn’t been any formal education whatsoever in Fel’s youth and taking it up in adulthood hadn’t been easy, to say the very least. 

Dorian had actually been quite useful in that regard. Being an academic at heart himself he’d been able to fill in the gaps in Fel’s education where needed in a way that his trainer, with her mind very much taken up with rift magic and all of its minutiae, was unable to. If it meant that some nights they ended up otherwise occupied when Fel was supposed to be studying? Well, everything had turned out alright in the end so it was a wash as far as Fel was concerned. 

Solas had helped as well. He had developed a similar style, evidently from his long hours traveling the fade. The other elf was curious about how the techniques were being developed and whenever he had a pesky question that neither Dorian nor his trainer could answer Solas often could, or would at least be able to point him in the right direction.

Once they moved beyond theory and into practice he had been startled by how very easy it came to him. Fel had always been decent with elemental magic, fire and lightning especially, but this surpassed even those. The Fade came to his call, wrapped around him, twining through him, the Mark on his hand pulsing with that sickly light and singing in his blood as he guided the magic into the shapes he needed, a fist, a boot, an unseen miasma that twisted among their enemies, weakening them and guiding them ever closer to victory. He crushed their enemies with terrifying efficiency, pulling them together with concussive force, immolating them and then pulling the veil down on their heads to crush the last bits of life from their bodies. 

Fel had never taken joy in killing and he didn’t truly now, but there was something satisfying about using this new magic against those they were fighting, people he felt deserved some kind of punishment. Still, any satisfaction he took in using his magic against others was usually grim. 

Some time after he’d begun his training he, Dorian, Blackwall, and Sera found themselves in the Hinterlands. They’d been tracking down the remainder of the mercenaries that had been giving the refugees trouble for a couple of weeks. He’d perhaps let this go unaddressed for too long, but they were here now and routing out the last pockets wandering Hafter’s Woods. Thankfully it had been easy enough, as much as it was a slog, and they’d found a lead toward some sort of smuggling operation and a cache of shiny things for Sera besides. 

They were headed back toward camp so that he could send a message to Varric when they ran into a small group of mercenaries, only three men, and they either hadn’t heard that their fort had fallen or they had and had something to say about it because they rushed into battle straightaway. The first two were dispatched easily enough, lightly armored archers, but the third was larger, a warrior, shielded and skilled with both it and his sword. Blackwall clashed blades with the man while Fel, Sera, and Dorian tried to get past his defenses and make an opening. Fel stepped out and with a punching movement of his staff used his newly honed magic and called the Fade to coalesce into a fist made of spirit stone. 

It flew toward its target and hit dead on. He’d seen opponents stumble before, even lose their footing completely and fall, but the last thing he expected was for the man to be lifted into the air and tossed with force like a rag doll over the nearest hill. 

Blackwall stumbled back and blinked with a baffled expression, eyes and bearded mouth comically round, as his adversary was suddenly gone, but the rest of them had a perfect view of the man launching into the air and soaring ass over tea kettle off into the distance. Fel gave a startled laugh and then everything was quiet for a moment before Sera started to cackle in earnest. Dorian followed not long after, followed by more of Fel’s laughter and lastly Blackwall, once he’d properly processed just what exactly had happened. 

“Maker’s m-mercy Fel!” Dorian exclaimed breathlessly, giggles interrupting his speech, where he leaned hard on his staff. “Show the man how you really feel, why don’t you!”

Sera was reduced to a red-faced mess, hands on her knees and just barely able to squeeze out “Did you see his face?” through her exuberant guffaws.

He let the lightness of the moment carry him through the rest of their trek and all the way back into camp. Later they sat by the fire with Sera telling the story to all who would listen, complete with gestures and sound effects. Fel’s very favorite part was her imitation of the bandit’s shocked expression.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a couple of other short fics in the works where I'll be delving into my Lavellan, his feelings, thoughts, relationships, etc. I'm going to sort this, those and my first fic into a series for easy reading.


End file.
